And now, the tragic short story of Rebecca.

I have all my classes with this girl, (and by all I mean both.) and I always noticed that she dressed really nice, and reminded me vaguely of Celisse because she has long dark hair and wore the same clothes that Celisse does. I think there is probably proof somewhere that you are attracted to people who look like people you already like. But one day, she ended up in a group with me to discuss Against Nature and I told her I thought her heels were really cute, and asked her where she got them. (Which, apparently is tacky? according to In Style magazine, which is really depressing to me, because I love to know where people got their clothes, if they're cute.) But maybe she doesn't read In Style, because she told me. And the next few classes I had with her, she would come and sit right next to me, and I would smile and say "hi" and she would just nod at me. The whole time, I would be thinking, is she looking at my shoes? Crap, I always wear Vans. Or, is she laughing at the same jokes Professor M.P. is telling? I was enamored with her because I thought I would finally have a friend, and that she would force me to wear cuter clothes to impress her.
But one fateful day, (actually it might have been that same week) she followed me into the bathroom and pushed me up against the wall and told me she would kill me if I told anyone wear she got her shoes. Just kidding. She picked the stall next to me, (when there were 6 other stalls to choose from) and I definitely couldn't pee after that, so I washed my hands and left really quickly, and it's been weird ever since.

We ignored each other for a very long time after that. I made a different friend that I can chat with, and even the twins will turn around to talk to me. But Rebecca and I would just cordially smile at each other.
But today, she sat down next to me and I turned and smiled at her, and I wondered, if the weird bathroom thing had never happened, we might have been best friends. Maybe she watches all the TV shows I do. Maybe she would have asked me out for coffee.

But I guess I'll never know. And I'm forced to be fine with that. Unless she is going to be an English major for as many years as I will be, and then we may reconcile with the gift of amnesia that time gives to college students...

For a minute yesterday, I forgot the word leg.
This is not as bad as 3 days of forgetting the word jar, but leg is a word you use a lot more frequently than jar.
I kept poking my leg, on TRAX, thinking "Pants? Pants. Pants." Getting frustrated cuz that couldn't be the right word. I started saying it out loud, hoping it would come to me. Pants. Pants? "When I wake up in the morning, I put my jeans on my....pants," I whispered. Nope. Wait, leg. The word is leg. I put my pants on my legs.

I'm doing a little better today now that I had so much sleep. But seriously.

For about 3 or 4 days, I have forgotten the very word "Jar". I have forgotten what it is, or that there even was a name for it.
A "bottle" of paint thinner (turpenoid to be exact) broke or has been leaking in the cab of my truck, causing...fumes. Only I knew the shape of the "bottle" and it wasn't really a bottle. I was thinking it must be a glass, uh, can? I couldn't remember the word for it until tonight, as I was opening the door of my truck and smelling the turpenoid afresh that I realized it was in a JAR. What the heck.
Jars of jam.
Jars of clay.
Jars of peanut butter. Pears. Tomatoes in the root cellar in Illinois.
Why did I forget this word?
Maybe this is a statement on my condition of never sleeping.